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A Chapter by Katie Kistler

The girl freezes under my arm and I try to take in her expression. "War?" Her eyebrows knitted together, she turns to face me. I blink in surprise. Maybe she's just a really good actress. "Yeah. War. Swords, blood, death," I shrug. She frowns and looks down as she crosses her arms, turning away from me and beginning to pace. "How long...?" She asks softly, not looking up. I narrow my eyes. No way she's serious. Everyone on this half of the country knows about the long time unrest between Walthog and L 'amette. "Okay what do you want?" I ask, eyeing her suspiciously. The girl stops and looks up in surprise, fingers probing at her temple. "Pardon?" I roll my eyes. "Who the hell are you and what do you want?" I step closer, hand resting on the hilt of the blade at my hip. She looks down at my hand fearfully and takes a step back, raising her hands in defense. "Please, I do not wish to upset you. I just need to find out where my uncle is." I ignore her and inch forward, beginning to draw my sword from its sheathe. "Do you have a name?" The girl bites her lip and looks at me strangely. "I...ehm..." I raise my eyebrows and she looks down. "It's Léanne." I think I must hear her wrong as she whispers "Terioux". But then it clicks. The Teriouxs were banished fifty some years ago for unspeakable acts of treason, sentenced to go back to their homeland of France indefinitely. The Teriouxs would have no way of knowing about the war. No way of knowing that they were the sole cause of another one of the biggest wars in history. No way of knowing that showing their faces here at this point in time would mean certain death. Léanne Terioux. I flex my jaw and close my eyes. I am so fucked. "Damn it," I whisper, sheathing my sword and retreating from my offensive stance. Léanne looks up cautiously, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. "I know I should not be here. But it's my uncle; I came to bring him home. He has been in hiding for quite a while, but in his last letter he was very distressed. He spoke of a possible upheaval in the system and stated that should things get worse, he would leave. But...it has been two months and he has not responded to any of our letters. We fear the worst, but I came to make sure that--" I hold up a hand to her mouth as I strain my ears, sure that I heard the familiar jingle of my brothers keys. Léanne looks at me wide eyed and brings a hand up to my own. I place my finger to my lips, shushing her.
"Jade? You in here?" S**t! I plaster a grin onto my face and shove my hands into my pockets, turning towards the entrance as Jonah appears from behind a hay bale. "Hey," I say a bit too enthusiastically. "Lina, this is my brother Jonah; Jonah, this is Lina. She's a new student at St. Vermont." I watch as Léanne smiles and outstretches her hand. "Hello, Jonah." My brother glances between us before hesitantly shaking her hand. "Hi. Is my sister giving you the grand tour, then?" Léanne laughs nervously. "She is, yes. It's a beautiful village," she says sweetly, a thick American accent rolling off her French tongue. He nods, running a dirty hand through his sandy brown hair and staring at her. I smirk. Jonah has never been subtle. I understand it this time, though. The French girl has large Amber eyes and an angular face, not to mention an obvious naivety that is both charming and unsettling. She shifts uneasily under his gaze and glances at me for help. I smile and let out a low chuckle. "Take a picture Joe, it lasts longer." My brother scowls at me as his face turns bright red and turns to leave the barn. As he walks out he turns over his shoulder. "Enjoy your tour of Walthog, Lina. Don't let my sister get too handsy, eh?" He presses his lips together with a knowing look and trudges up the hill to the house. I glare at the back of his head. "Handsy?" Léanne asks, clearly confused by the term. I clear my throat. "Don't worry about it. Just a...stupid joke. My brother has poor taste." Léanne shrugs, but doesn't press me. Instead opting for the spot I had been sitting in not too long ago. I cast a sidelong glance at her. "What makes you think you can trust me?" I ask, leaning against the bale that sits across from her and crossing my arms. "I could turn you in right now. Do you know what I would get? For giving this village the upper hand?" I shake my head. She looks up at me with a steady gaze, confidant but gentle. "Your father. I knew him." At this she looks down. "He was a dear friend of my uncles. And today...today he was brave. I owe him my life. But in his stead he told me that if he should die, then I would find you here and you could help me." This is getting to a suspicious level of coincidence and lies. She says she's lost but then that she should be here. She knows my father and yet he's dead. I don't trust her and as I reach for my blade again she suddenly thrusts a letter into my hand. "He said you would not believe me." I frown at her but take the letter, my breath catching as I notice the familiar scroll of my fathers handwriting.

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